Sweet As Cake
by FuchsiaMae
Summary: It's Cave's birthday. Caroline decides to surprise him with a cake. Cave/Caroline, rated M for adult content.


**A/N:** Debated putting this up, since I usually try not to post smut here unless it has some kind of a plot, but this one's a little longer and closer to relevant than usual, so I figured I'd go ahead and do it. Here is your **warning: contains graphic sex**. If graphic sex is what you're here for, great. If not, you should probably stop reading now. Also stop reading if you're opposed to fluff, because this one is... really, really fluffy. And I hope you like food play.

(I've been wondering whether to post more of my smutty oneshots here. They're all up on my LJ already, fuchsiamae dot livejournal dot com, but if you'd like to see them here say so in a review.)

* * *

><p>It was almost one in the morning, and he lay asleep, cuddled up beside her like an overgrown puppy. She loved the warmth of him spooned protectively around her, she loved his strong arms and the steady rise and fall of his breath—but she couldn't stay. There were other things to do tonight. She slipped carefully out of his embrace, her feet barely making a sound as they met the floor, and brushed a feather-light kiss on his lips before stealing out of the bedroom. He didn't suspect a thing.<p>

Her caution held until she was safely to her destination—then she shut the kitchen door behind her, flicked on the light, and bit her hand to stifle a giggle. He was going to love this. She went to her recipe box, flipped through to the card she wanted, and allowed herself a secretive grin. _Happy Birthday, Mr. Johnson_.

The company always did something for his birthday, of course, but this year was special. This year was the first year she could give him a birthday kiss as he fell asleep beside her. The thought made her tingle—it had been only months since they first acted on their feelings for each other, but already it felt like the most natural thing in the world. They were perfect together. Making science and making love. What more could a girl ask for?

The smile refused to leave her face as she got out her ingredients and preheated the oven. She loved cooking, though she rarely had time to prepare more than simple things. In a way it was a science of its own—mixing components and causing reactions in order to make something new. Kitchen chemistry. _And through the power of science_, she thought as she covered three cake pans in parchment paper, _I will now transform these simple ingredients into a delicious three-layer birthday cake. And my boss will love it_.

She hoped her own skills could compare to the bakery they normally got his cake from, but somehow she thought he'd appreciate the homemade touch. Maybe he'd give her a "That's my girl" and a thank-you kiss… with his hands wandering over her body the way they loved to do… A flush rose up her chest at the thought, and her own hands traced the ghost of his touch, across her breasts and stomach, under the hem of her nightie…

Of course, she was doing this as something nice for him, not to earn his praise. She banished the reverie from her mind. Praise was just a bonus. What she really wanted was to tell him he deserved the best she had to give—whether it was working a sixteen-hour day, filing every scrap of paper in the facility, or simply making a cake, she would do absolutely anything for him. The idea was a show of devotion. And the look on his face at the first bite, that first _mmmm_ of approval… Bonus.

.

As she worked, thoughts of him lingered in the back of her mind. She was content to let them stay. Baking was even better with her stomach full of warm, happy butterflies.

"Mmmmmm…"

Cave rolled over and snuggled deeper in the sheets, lingering halfway in a delicious dream. His pretty young secretary, all doe-eyes and curves, kissing a clone of herself while he watched with rapt attention… Arms twined around slim bodies in a tender embrace, soft pink lips pressed together… _Mmmm_…

As the dream faded, his arms reached out to encircle the woman beside him, and he pulled her close. Even if there was only one of her, cuddling his assistant was the perfect way to start a day. Not every man could wake up with a twenty-four-year-old beauty in his bed, after all, and there sure weren't any more like Caroline. His Caroline, his little gem, the sweetest, smartest, most hardworking girl he'd ever met—and since he'd finally charmed her panties off, the best lay, too. He'd had his share of women, sure, but there was something special about his Caroline. She was goddamn perfect.

He nuzzled contentedly into her. Goddamn perfect, and all his. She felt pliant in his embrace, her body soft and pillowy and… linen…?

He frowned. Whatever he was holding, he didn't think it was his girl. Sitting up, he blinked to full consciousness and realized the thing in his arms was her pillow. His secretary was nowhere to be seen. "Caroline?" He scanned the darkened room. No sign of her. The sky outside was pitch black, nowhere close to morning—even she wouldn't be up this early—and yet he was in bed alone. "Caroline?"

After another moment adjusting to the darkness, he hauled himself out of bed and shambled out of the bedroom, his footsteps heavy and clumsy with sleep. The living room was dark as well—he narrowly missed jamming his toe against the sofa—but he noticed light streaming out from beneath the kitchen door, and listening closely he could hear someone humming. The tune was just recognizable: _For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow_…

He trudged over, poked his head in—and shit, it was _bright_ in there. He squinted against the blinding light until he could barely make out the shape of his secretary, bent over with her back to him as she closed the oven door. His sleep-addled brain still managed to register a thrum of attraction at the curve of her backside, barely hidden by the short, sheer nightie that rode up almost to the tops of her thighs. But why the hell was she awake?

"Caroline?" She whipped around, startled, hiding the oven guiltily behind her back. "Whaddaya think you're doing?"

"Did I wake you, sir? I-I'm sorry—"

"No, no." He ran a hand sleepily up his face, rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, and tangled his fingers in his hair as he scratched his head. "Come on back to bed, kiddo."

The invitation was tempting. In nothing but his boxers, with his hair tousled and his jaw shadowed by a hint of stubble, he looked impossibly sexy. She found her gaze wandering down his near-naked body, and her mind wandering back to bed with him… back to his powerful embrace, and the heady smell of sex… The thought made her flood with heat. It drew her forward a few steps before she caught herself. "I can't, sir. I have things to do."

"Aww, c'mon…" He saw her staring and grinned. She looked irresistible herself in her little nightie, the one he'd picked out for her because none of her old ones showed her off like this. Getting her to wear it with nothing underneath had taken some talking, but it was worth the effort—the sheer fabric offered only the barest illusion of modesty, tracing every curve of her, like a present just for him. And as a present she was a hell of a lot better than some fancy watch or something. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. "It's my birthday, y'know…"

His suggestive grin made her blush. She tried to snuggle up to him while keeping herself between him and the countertop. "I know, sir, but—"

It didn't work. As he nuzzled into her neck, he caught a glimpse over her shoulder of what she was hiding—a clutter of ingredients, and a mixing bowl that now held only the last traces of batter. His brow furrowed again. "What're you up to?"

"Nothing, sir, you should go back to bed—"

She tried again to move between him and her workspace, but he skirted her to survey the countertop. "You making something?"

"Sort of." She bit her lip as she watched him investigate the mixing bowl. He picked it up, examined it, wiped a finger through the remnants of batter— "There's raw egg in that, sir—"

But before she could stop him he popped the finger into his mouth. A beat of silence passed as he tasted it—and then his eyes closed, and he let out a long "_Mmmmmm_…"

"Good?"

"_Mm-hmmm_."

She tried to suppress a smile as her boss licked his finger clean. "I'm glad you—sir—you really can't eat that, it's raw egg—"

But raw egg wasn't going to stop him. He wiped his finger through the batter again, picking up a dollop of cream-colored liquid, and licked it off as he said, "This is terrific! What's it for, a cake or something?"

Her blush deepened. "Your birthday cake, sir."

"Hm?" He looked up from the bowl at her sheepish face, and she glanced shyly away.

"I wanted to surprise you…"

"You're making me a birthday cake?" She nodded. "You didn't have to do that, y'know, we usually just buy 'em."

"I… wanted it to be special. It's nothing fancy, I hope you don't mind—"

"Aww, Caroline…" She looked adorable, with her soft blush and her bashful little smile. Her big brown eyes turned up to meet his, and he grinned, feeling a tingle of attraction down his spine. She was so perfect. He set aside the mixing bowl and caught her in his arms, cuddling her to his chest like a child with a favorite toy. "Why haven't I married you yet?"

"Sir?"

"Great little secretary, great little chef, prettiest thing I've ever seen…" He nuzzled her ear and murmured, "You're the best."

She couldn't hold back a full, glowing smile, warmth blossoming in her core at his embrace. "I try." She nuzzled back. "You deserve the best."

"Yeah I do." And he planted his lips firmly on hers.

Her heart skipped as he kissed her. It wasn't fair, the way he could make her weak without even trying—but his mouth on hers felt wonderful, and she relaxed into him as she kissed back. He pulled away after a long moment, leaving her slightly breathless, gazing up at him with her soft lips parted for more. She looked so damn cute that he kissed her again.

She broke the second kiss faster, pulling herself away before she was done to turn back to her baking. There was work to do. She could snuggle and—do other things—with her boss later. He felt the kiss break too soon and tried to pull her back, but her hands held him firmly away. "I have to finish, sir."

"Can it wait a little?"

She felt a hand trail up her thigh and bit her lip on a whimper. It just wasn't fair. "Do you want a birthday cake or not?"

The words came out too gentle to chide, but he took pity. "Okay, okay." He chuckled and loosened his grip.

Back to business, she turned to the countertop. "I'm almost done. The cake's in the oven, and I just have to finish the frosting."

"What kinda cake is it?" His arms slid around her waist as he peered over her shoulder, stubbly cheek scraping against her neck.

The embrace aroused a tremble of desire, which she firmly quashed. "Vanilla sponge cake, with a little almond extract I added to bring out the flavor. I was thinking lemon buttercream for the frosting." She pulled forward the ingredients she needed—butter, milk, powdered sugar, a tiny brown bottle labeled "Vanilla Extract," and a lemon—and his curious eyes watched her go to work. A knife came out of the cutlery drawer, and she sliced the lemon in two neat halves, placing them on a plate next to some sort of glass contraption before sliding it in front of her.

He peeked closer. "Can I help?"

She glanced back at him, an "I can do it, sir," on the tip of her tongue—but he looked genuinely interested. She relented with a smile. "Of course." A grin spread across his face as she stepped out of the way. "You can juice the lemon."

He picked up a lemon half in one hand and eyed the gadget warily. It had a grooved cone shape sticking up from the center, and a rim that dipped around it to form a shallow bowl, tapering into a spout at one end with a handle at the other. His brow furrowed in confusion—he'd never seen one of these before.

She had to bite back a chuckle. "Like this." Taking the lemon from him, she placed it sliced-side-down on the point of the cone and pressed it down, grinding it slightly so the grooves dug in. "See?" The fruit made a squishing sound, and juice trickled down the cone and into the bowl.

She guided his hand to replace hers, and he imitated her squishing movement—more juice leaked out of the lemon. He chuckled in satisfaction. "No problem."

Caroline couldn't hold back a smile at her boss's newfound mastery of the juice reamer. She kept an eye on him while she continued her own work, creaming the milk and softened butter together in her electric mixer. Her fingers picked up the vanilla extract—hesitated for a moment—and swapped it for a few drops of almond extract instead. An experiment.

By that time Cave was proudly holding a pair of emptied lemon halves, and the reamer was brimming with juice. She poured it into the mix, careful to avoid the seeds, and took one of the rinds from him. He watched, mystified, as she got out a small grater and scraped the rind across it, producing a pile of fine yellow shavings. "What's that for?"

"Lemon zest." She added a pinch of it. "For a little extra flavor." For the last step, she left the mixer on, measuring and adding half-cups of powdered sugar until the mixture in the bowl looked soft and fluffy. At last she shut the power off and said, "All done."

"Can I try some?"

"Yes you can—"

She barely consented before his eager hands dove for the bowl, scooping up a finger-full of the pale yellow frosting and popping it into his mouth. "_Mmmmmmmm_."

"Good?" He nodded vigorously. "Good." She pecked a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for helping, sir. And I think—" Her eyes went to the clock on the wall "—the cake should be just about done too." Taking a toothpick from the cabinet, she bent to open the oven—and squeaked as she felt a hand stroke her rump. "Sir!"

He growled playfully and gave her a squeeze. "You got a cute ass, Betty Crocker."

Biting her lip on a grin, she made no attempt to remove his hand as she checked the cake, not quite sure if it was the oven or the touch that was heating her face. The toothpick slid neatly into each golden layer, and each time it came out clean—all done. With the assistance of her oven mitts she slid the three cake pans onto the stovetop. "There."

"Can we eat it now?"

She chuckled at his eagerness. "No, sir, these have to cool, and then I'll put them together and ice them. Be patient."

"But it's my birthday…" He took her by the waist again and nuzzled into her neck, nibbling lightly at her throat.

A wordless murmur escaped her as his teeth grazed her skin, and her lips curved in an indulgent smile. "That won't make them cool any faster." She added softly, "I do hope you like it."

"I know I will, if it's half as sweet as you."

He brushed his lips along her shoulder, trailing tender kisses up her neck, and she melted into him with a husky purr. The heat of his nearly-naked body on hers made her tingle. His hand ventured up her thigh again and slipped under her nightie—she squeaked as he found the wetness that slicked her thighs. His skillful hands knew just how to handle her. Holding her to him with an arm around her waist, he teased at her slit with his fingers, making her whimper and squirm with desire. "Si-ir…"

He kissed her neck harder, nibbled her earlobe, and murmured, "Can I have _you_ for my birthday present?"

In reply she caught his mouth in hers, tasting the tart sweetness that lingered in his mouth, and kissed him hard.

He took that as consent. Pulling her to face him, he pinned her against the counter and ground his thigh between her legs, eliciting a low moan. Strong hands boosted her up to sit on the countertop and slipped under her nightie again. He wandered up her thighs and hips, exploring her, savoring the naked softness of her flesh. A tiny purr escaped her at his touch. He traced the small of her back with one hand, cupped her ass with the other, and pulled her close—she clung to him eagerly, nuzzling into his neck and pressing little kisses into his shoulder. Her breath on his skin sent a flash of desire through him. His lips found her throat and delivered a biting kiss, making her moan louder—god, he loved it when she made those sounds—

And then her fingers hooked the hem of her nightie and stripped it off, leaving her bare in his arms. His eyes roved up and down her shapely form, all full curves and softness—she was so beautiful. Beautiful, sweet as pie, and all his. She gazed into him with those deep brown eyes and grinned. "_For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow_…"

"You are _amazing_," he growled, and attacked her with his mouth. She arched willingly into him as he nibbled and sucked his way down to her chest, cupped her perfect breasts in his hands, and kissed them hungrily. His teeth grazed her skin, and his lips settled on a spot beside her nipple, making her whimper as he marked her with a red lovebite. He found her nipple and took it between his teeth, nipped her lightly, and sucked, taking as much of her in as he could. Her eyes closed blissfully as she offered herself to him.

And then Cave had an idea.

Caroline's eyes snapped open as she felt something wet smear across her bosom. She looked down to see her boss coating her right breast with a fistful of lemon frosting. "Mr. Johnson—!"

He only laughed and dragged his tongue through the frosting, leaving a trail through the fluffy yellow stuff as he licked it off. "Mmmmm…"

His mouth worked hungrily at the outer edge of her breast, lapping up the stuff. She whimpered at the touch of his lips and teeth. "Sir—we need that—" But he swept his tongue across the underside of her breast, scooping up a glob of frosting that melted in his mouth as he kissed her sternum, and her protest became a low moan.

He chuckled into her chest. "We can make more." As he nuzzled against her, his hand gave her other breast a wicked squeeze. "I'll squeeze all the lemons you want."

She melted in his arms as he devoured her, licking and sucking and biting at her flesh, feeding a smoldering arousal deep in her belly. His attention was the only thing in her mind—everything else faded away, leaving her senseless to all but his hands, his kisses, his breath on her skin. He let his lips wander from the base of her ribcage to her collarbone and back, teased her nipple with his tongue, scooped up another handful of frosting, and started over on the other side. She gasped and squirmed as it coated her again—and went blissfully limp as his warm mouth consumed her.

A tremor of lust ran through him as he traced the round shape of her breast—the frosting tasted tart and sweet on his lips, and beneath it her body was deliciously supple and soft. Her chest fluttered with ragged breath under his kisses. Moving his hand to the bowl again, he took a fingerful and brought it to her lips—she licked at the finger and took it into her mouth, grinning as her eyes locked on his and she sucked it clean. Teasing little minx. He removed the finger slowly when she was done, and his hand on her cheek drew her into a sugary kiss.

Arms and legs wrapped tight around his torso, and she kissed back hard. Their bodies met in a squish of frosting—he ignored it, totally absorbed by her lips on his. Her tongue twined around him, drawing him in, and he let out a quiet moan as he explored her mouth. She tasted like lemonade. She sucked at his tongue for a moment, but broke the kiss to nibble lightly on his lower lip—he tried to pull her back in, but her mouth trailed down his neck to his shoulder, where she began biting and sucking to form a lovebite of her own.

He purred. "You're sexy as hell, you know that?"

"Thank you, sir." She nuzzled into him and nipped his shoulder again.

Glancing down, she noticed where leftover frosting had transferred from her body to his, leaving yellowy smears across his chest. Her mouth moved to them, and he chuckled as she licked him clean. "Yeah, that's it…" The chuckle became a low groan as her tongue circled his nipple. She kissed it playfully. Teeth grazed the hardened nub, and she gently sucked, feeling him shudder. "Nnnnngh… Good girl…"

And then he felt a hand slide down his spine to squeeze his ass. She kissed his throat again as she pulled him close, and her fingers eased his boxers off. A sultry voice purred in his ear, "Want the rest of your present?"

He didn't need to be asked twice. Grabbing her roughly by the hips, he spread her further and plunged in deep, forcing a cry from her lips as the base of his cock thudded into her clit. Her eager wetness made his pulse pound with lust. She squirmed in his arms, grinding herself onto him, as he drove himself into her again. He growled hotly, "Sexy little thing…" But she matched his motion and silenced him with a forceful kiss.

Her thighs locked around his hips as he fucked her slowly. He filled her with every thrust, hitting her sweet spot just right, pulling out almost completely between each stroke until she whimpered with need in his arms. Oh yes, she needed him. He smirked around gritted teeth. "Who's your boss, kiddo?"

"Mr. Johnson—"

"Damn _right_—" He picked up speed.

"M-mr. _John_-son—"

"Yeah?"

"_Aaaaaahhhhh_—"

He pounded into her, fast and hard, slamming her onto his cock over and over as she moaned hotly for more. She took him up to the hilt, her slit tight and wet around him, her tender form trembling against his. Her ragged panting teased his ear. "Aw, yeah—that's my girl—unnnnnf—"

"_Ssssiiiirrrr_—"

He buried his face in her neck, godshefeltsofuckinggood, and grunted, "_Caroline—_"

"Aaaaa-_AAAAHHHH—!_"

He drove into her a final time and they came hard. Hips locked together, fingers dug into sweaty skin, and he bit his lip on a groan as he spilled into her, her howl of climax ringing in his ears. She bucked roughly against him, drawing out the orgasm that quivered through her frame—head tilted back, flushed pink mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut as she concentrated on the sensation inside her. He felt her thighs clench tight around him and knew her toes were curling. Perfect.

He thrust a few more times as he finished, and shuddered as his knees went weak. His tall frame slumped against hers. Catching his breath slowly, he nuzzled into her hair, drinking in the smell of her—sweat and sex, a hint of lingering perfume, the warm scent of woman underneath, and a subtle metallic tang that came from hours at the Enrichment Center. The smell made him tingle with euphoria. It made him happy—she made him happy. She was so goddamn perfect.

Her body went slowly limp as her orgasm ebbed and, panting for breath, she matched his slump as she relaxed into him. He wrapped his arms around her again. She was the sweetest, cleverest, most beautiful girl in the world, and every bit of her was his. His Caroline. He covered her shoulder in possessive kisses. "Mmmm…" she purred gently, and her lips against his neck curved into a smile.

He kissed up her throat, savoring the soft warmth of her skin, and nuzzled under her ear. The affectionate gesture made her giggle. He growled gently and murmured, "Happy birthday to me."

"Mhmm." Warm brown eyes lifted to meet his gaze, and she kissed a stray daub of frosting off his nose. Her smile was sweet as sugar. "_For he's a jolly good fellow, that nobody can deny…_"

He caught her lips in his again. His Caroline was the best present he could ever want.


End file.
